Monsters
by Happy Voltaire
Summary: Wilhemina Murray reflects upon the league and the monsters in her life.


Hi everyone, big fan of the comic books, not so much with the movie. Until there's a section devoted to the comic (not holding my breath here), I decided to post this piece in the movie category. Basically the same characters and plot line, right? Anyway, here's a brief warning. This does contain major spoilers, so don't read and become enraged that I didn't notify you first. Thanks for your time and enjoy my little ditty, which takes place after the first twelve issues.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Alan Moore and America's Best Comics. Even though I'm sure Mr. Moore will never read this, I don't claim to own the League.

_Monsters_

Wilhelmina Murray had experienced some hellish things in her lifespan, but perhaps none were as terrifying as the thought of her last day on earth. Since joining the league, she had felt what it was like to witness the end of the world; twice actually. Once was due to a crazed maniac who decided that perhaps it would be a jolly time to pick a fight with the Chinese immigrants living in London. The second time, well, the second time had something to do with immigrants as well. Only these immigrants were far stranger and much more horrifying than some Asian; they had been from Mars. Or so they deduced; but it was quite possible that they were from a farther place than just the red planet.

Yet through all the bloodshed witness, Mina was more concerned with so-called allies throughout each adventure; and rightly justified as well. At first she had thought Hyde and Nemo were the only monsters she had to keep her eyes on, but she later realized that her blind trust in Mr. Griffin was something not well-founded.

"He made me grovel." She wrote over and over in her journal; hot tears streaming down her face. She couldn't even bear to write his name. Griffin was a sad excuse for a human, even an invisible human at that. He had betrayed them to the Martians; he had betrayed his own country he swore to protect. After beating her senseless and leaving her unconscious he had just left; never giving a second thought to the consequences. Even the English-loathing Nemo wouldn't have gone that far.

But now he was dead; Hyde had seen to that. The more caring nature of Mina had admitted that she was happy he had not died a too painful death; no one deserved that. Perhaps Griffin was not a true monster. After all, he had been on their side at one point, correct?

Speaking of Hyde, the gigantic beast that she once thought he was, had seemed genuinely concerned with her state when he found her after Griffin was through with her.

He was actually brooding; the great beast was brooding. After seeing less and less of the unfortunate doctor Jekyll, she came to the conclusion that Hyde had swallowed the man up and had finally overpowered his creator. Yet she didn't understand why Hyde seemed sensitive when around her (as sensitive as he could be at least); why hadn't he raped her and killed her like every other woman he had met?

When he died, god rest his soul, he said some pretty strange things to her. Called her perfect, asked for a kiss, touched her breast, then went off to his death. No, Hyde was not a monster. Although his motives for self-sacrifice were plainly put (he had just wanted to kill something), he had been so gentle with her.

Nemo was not a monster. Yes, he hated the English. Yes, he showed no mercy when slaughtering them. But he joined the league and was true throughout the end, and besides that, his reason for hating the English was not something Mina could possibly ignore. Her people conquered the Indian people; and although many had told her their opinions of the 'heathens', she couldn't possibly believe the outrageous stories of great white-man massacres and worship of gods devoted to black magic.

Nemo was one of many things; a pirate, a murderer, a rebel, an Indian, a husband and a father, but he most certainly was not a monster. It was only after he saw the canister of anthrax and streptococcus being fired into London to finally kill those blasted Martians and whatever human life remained that he stormed off in a rage; rightly so.

Allan, ah, Allan. Allan Quatermain was definitely no monster. The opium addict was the closest one to sanity in the League; the only man Mina freely trusted. She had admired him since she had been a girl, reading his tales of adventure in Africa with a lantern by her bedside. When she first met him he had been hardly the man she remembered from the books. He was completely under the spell of opium; laying in some filthy room in one of the darkest places in Cairo. A mess he had been, yet Mina secretly saw the greater things in Mr. Quatermain. Whereas at first she was annoyed with him, it took Jekyll to point out that she too secretly fancied the much older man.

No dammit, she loved him. And he had loved her; loved her for who she was. He saw past what had happened to her years ago; unlike her bastard of a husband who had decided he couldn't touch a woman who was scarred and violated so. She had been like a leper to him and when she went in for a kiss or even the smallest of hand holds he would turn away from her.

She had expected the divorce but didn't realize how hurt she was actually going to be by it. She had loved him even though he experienced as much abuse by the same man as she had. Mina had taken him back and comforted him, loving him and standing by him. Yet when the evil creature came back for her Jonathan immediately rejected her. Her neck- the site of the murder of her former happy life, was kept covered with a red scarf at all times. If her own husband couldn't understand, how could anyone else?

But Allan had accepted her. He looked upon the scars on her neck fondly and admitted to her that his deceased wife had similar scars along her neck. He had been amazed that the two women he had loved the most had such similar marks; the mere thought had nearly sent Mina into tears. He saw the scars and knew the story; and he loved her.

And she left him.

The Count that had put the marks on her throat was a monster. Her former husband was a monster. Professor Moriarty had been a monster. The Martians were monsters.

She was a monster. A monster for leaving the only person to see her inner self and accept her. A beast like Hyde; a madman like Nemo; a traitor like Griffin. Truly she was as normal as the company she had kept for those twisting and turning months; and once more; belonged there with them.

- End


End file.
